“Hey!” I say, turning to her. “Where are you headed?”
“The city. There’s a flea market in Williamsburg that has the best deals for vintage clothing and handmade goods from artists. You’d really like it,” she says, then pauses. “Plus, there’s a really good food market there. Ever had a ramen burger?”
“A ramen burger?” I repeat.
“Don’t look so skeptical, they’re a-mazing.”
I laugh. “I mean, I like both of those things separately, so…maybe I’ll be into it? I’ll have to try that sometime.”
“Trust me. You won’t regret it. What about you? What’re you going into the city for?” she asks, as she eyes Andy buying his ticket. I don’t want to get into the paper hearts so I tell her the same white lie I told my mom.
“I got into a school in New York so I’m going to check it out.”
“Oh no way, what school? I’m going to Columbia next year.”
“You are?” I ask. “I might be too. I was thinking about deferring for a year, though….” I trail off. If I’m being honest with myself, I thought about college way too much when it didn’t matter and ironically now that it does, I haven’t at all. That’s the thing—sometimes it’s hard to think about the future when you’re stuck in the past.
“Well, if you don’t defer, we could start school together,” Sarah says hopefully, but she must see a look on my face because she adds on, “Just ignore me. I’m just so excited to get out of this town. I want college to start as soon as possible.”
“I get that,” I say. “I’ll let you know what I do….It would…it would actually be really nice to know someone.”
Sarah smiles as Andy comes up behind me. “Well, I’ll let you enjoy your college tour, then.” Thankfully, Andy doesn’t correct her.
“Do you want to sit with us?” I ask.
For a second, she looks happy, but then she shakes her head. “I’m sitting in the Quiet Car. Either reading the sixth Harry Potter book for the twentieth time or starting a new Game of Thrones.”
“Both better options than sitting with us,” Andy says. “I plan on distracting Ella the entire way.”
I turn to Sarah. “Maybe I should be sitting with you.”
The two of them laugh, but part of me was completely serious. If it weren’t for the paper hearts, I would love to be heading to the city with Sarah to shop and eat a ramen burger. That sounds way better than what I’d normally be doing by myself. I like that she’s not afraid to do things alone. Whenever I want to do something, I feel like I need to go with a group of friends or at least one other person, which is a shame, because there are things that sometimes I don’t get to do because people are busy. Sarah just seems so independent and sure of herself. Here she is, doing a day trip to Brooklyn on her own like it’s no big deal.
I wish I could be more like that, I think as Andy and I board the train.
* * *
Traveling to NYC sometimes feels like I’m journeying to some faraway land. Today it feels even more so. The tracks run parallel to the Hudson River, which is now partially frozen and covered in snow from last night. It would be extremely peaceful if Andy would stop talking.
Maybe I really should’ve sat in the Quiet Car.
“Do you think someone will try to sit with us?” he asks now, nodding toward the seat to his right. We’re in a three-seater.
“Maybe. The train gets crowded on weekends.”
He shakes his head. “I should’ve brought iced coffee.”
“It’s February. Why an iced coffee?
“First of all, I’m not a wimp, Ella. I can drink iced coffee any time of the year. People don’t start drinking warm water because we’re in the dead of winter. Second of all, the iced coffee is a ploy so nobody would want to sit with us. I have this trick that I’m debating telling you about on account of how you’ll finally know I’m an evil genius.”
I roll my eyes. “Do I even want to know, after your Hot Chocolate Theory?”
“Hmm. Well, you seem smart but not very evil. I don’t want to be a bad influence on you.”
I shake my head. “Just tell me.”
“Okay, so if I had an iced coffee, I could hold it right here,” he says, holding the pretend coffee in the imaginary line between this seat and the one over. “And I’d let the condensation from my iced coffee drip ever so slowly onto the next seat. Then as people walk by, they will think Oh, there’s an open seat! But they will come by to see there’s in fact water on that seat tainted by my drink and keep moving because who on earth wants to have a wet butt from some nerd’s iced coffee? I’ll tell you,” he says, pausing for dramatic effect. “No one.”
I stare at him in disbelief. “That is an evil genius move,” I finally say.
He grins, his dimple showing. “Now your turn.”
“Turn for what? I never said I was an evil genius.”
“Okay, well, you don’t have to tell me what makes you diabolical, but tell me what makes you a little less perfect than the good-girl image you’re still giving off to me now.”
“I do not have a good-girl image,” I argue.
He raises an eyebrow. “I can see for this trip you came prepared with celery sticks…and is that a PB&J cut into a heart?” he asks, peering inside my purse.
I zip it shut. “Don’t even think of asking for snacks later if you get hungry.”
“I won’t,” he says. “I’ll just ask you about your five-year plan.”
I look out the window.
“Oh my God, you do have a five-year plan. Now you have to tell me. I’m intrigued. Do you think about it while you cut your snacks into hearts?” he asks in a teasing voice.
“It’s perfectly normal to have a five-year plan,” I argue.
“I never said it wasn’t. But a lot of people our age don’t have one.”
“You don’t strike me as someone who does what everyone does,” I say.
“Touché,” he says. “Okay, but seriously. Can you tell me now? I’m really curious.”
I pause, examining his eyes. They are no longer teasing—he seems sincere.
“Well, in five years I hope to be graduating from college, or at least that’s the plan now,” I start to say. “And don’t laugh…but my dream is to combine my love of books with my love of planning and become a book publicist.”